


Sunshine Underneath Her Skin

by Psuedo_sweetheart



Series: Hearts of Gold [1]
Category: Andromeda Six (Visual Novel)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:21:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27534433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Psuedo_sweetheart/pseuds/Psuedo_sweetheart
Summary: "Damon picks up his own drink and follows in the shadows behind her, intent on making sure she makes it there unmolested.  She literally glows gold, and he wouldn’t trust anyone here not to cut off someones hand for a knock-off bracelet, much less keep their paws off a Tilaari who looks as naive as a kitten- Ryona, at least can pull off a ‘don’t fuck with me’ aura, if she wants to."
Relationships: Damon Reznor/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Hearts of Gold [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2026270
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	Sunshine Underneath Her Skin

He’d thought she was an anxious little thing, but apparently when no one’s threatening her or yelling at her, Boba is enthusiastically curious. She’s practically vibrating with excitement as they enter the bar in Nos Vostra, although when the entire front room goes silent at the sight of them, she shrinks back so that she’s practically hiding in his coat.

Damon is bitingly annoyed, but not exactly at her; it’s not like she can help it that she, in Aya’s words, ‘looks like a sunbeam that decided it wanted to be a person.’ She’s Tilaari, a rare enough sight outside of Tilaarin, and added to that her gold skin catches eyes wherever she goes, topped with a shock of pale, gold-sheened, hair. 

He scowls at the patrons, with back up scowling provided by Calderon and Ryona, who was more likely than any of them to utterly demolish anyone here who laid a finger on Boba, and the crowd quickly returns to their own business. 

Damon drags Boba out of his coat, growling as he gently shoves her toward a bar stool.

“You can’t go showin’ fear in places like this,” he says in a low voice, close to her ear. 

“O-okay,” she says, voice wavering as she climbs up and perches on the edge of the seat, only to nearly topple off when it twists unexpectedly underneath her.

She manages to catch herself in a surprisingly graceful maneuver, and Damon’s eyebrow raises in surprise even as he snorts out a laugh, sliding onto the stool next to her.

“Why do these twist?” she asks, breathlessly after she rights herself, “It seems like it would be a hazard for drunk people.”

“Pretty sure it’s only a hazard for idiots.”

The luminosity of her skin dims, and he wishes he could just shut the hell up once in awhile, and he wouldn’t admit it to anyone that he’s relieved when she lights back up a moment later, pouting as she gently kicks at his leg.

“You’re so mean. What did I ever do to you?”

‘You’re makin’ me want to be soft, that’s what you’re doin’ to me. Gonna get me all sorts of fucked up if I let you, aren’t ya?’ Is what he thinks as he stares at her utterly expressionless, before leaning in, a growing leer on his face.

“Nothin’ yet,” he states, slowly running his gaze down her body. Her skin is utterly unable to hide even the slightest blush and he smirks as he straightens up, gesturing at the bartender. 

“What’ll it be, newbie?” he asks her.

She shrugs, “No idea. What do you think I’d like?”

He smirks and orders his usual along with an ‘Angel’s Tit,’ which predictably brings another blush to her face. He chuckles and she grins at him, cheeks still pink. Apparently she doesn’t think it looks that much like a tit though, because when the bar tender sits it in front of her, she just looks awestruck. 

“Oh my goodness, that looks delicious,” she states, before happily plucking the cherry from the top of the white, creamy, drink and popping it in her mouth.

“How much alcohol is in that?” Cal asks him, frowning at the top of Boba’s head, as she takes a cautious sip.

“Ehhh,” he’s about to brush it off, but then he glances at Boba again. 

She’s got some curves on her, but she’s short as hell, and the chances she’s used to drinking seem pretty slim. 

He sighs, “I guess one of is gonna have a shittier than expected night babysitting then.”

Cal scowls at him, aggressively taking a drink his beer and setting down with a harsh click.

“We need to discuss something before you get plastered,” Cal turns to Boba, glancing above her head to glare at him again. 

Damon just grins, literally shrugging it off. 

Boba takes one last sip of her drink, tapping her feet happily against the struts of the bar stool before setting it down and facing the captain. Damon slides her drink away from her elbow and downs half of it behind her back. 

Damn. It’s really good, actually. 

The corner of Cal’s mouth goes up, but he otherwise doesn’t give any indication of Damon’s treachery to Boba.

Calderon explains what needs to happen, and the choice she needs to make, and she turns back to look at him, apparently not noticing the significant dent in her drink. Damon just arches an eyebrow as he sips at his own drink, not bothering to hide that he’s undressing her with his eyes. 

If she’s smart, she’ll choose the dutiful captain, but he has a suspicion that she isn’t gonna be smart.

“In that case, I choose Damon.”

Yeah, about what he expected. 

Cal makes a smart remark and Damon snaps back, watching intently as the captain finishes the last of his drink before barging off. Fucker, would be pissed no matter who she chose, he knows that, but he can’t help but wonder if the good captain has a crush like damn near everyone else in their pathetic little crew. When he looks back at Boba she’s glaring at him.

“You drank my drink, didn’t you? Just because Cal complained, I can’t believe you’re-”

“Cool your damn jets,” he growls at her, even though he’s mostly amused, particularly at her calling the captain ‘Cal.’ He can’t wait till she does that when he’s around to hear it.   
  
“If you aren’t drunk off your ass off that, I’ll get you another one.” 

That gets her to shut up, and she goes back to sipping at her drink, and he has to hide his smile at how damn cute it is that she taps her feet when she’s happy. And who woulda’ guessed a sweet thing like her would be happy drinking in a dive bar with Cursa scum and then some. Not him, that’s for sure.

“So what exactly am I going to do to earn my keep?” Boba asks after a few happy sips.

“Oh, I can think of all sorts of things for you to do,” he grins, thinking of a few of those things, as he lets his eyes rove over her, from her shiny, little, boots to those full, golden, lips. “Many, many, things.”

Boba, hides her red face behind one of her hands, “Damon,” she insists, “Pause the games for two minutes, please? I need to know.”

“But it’s so much fun playing with you,” he states, grinning.

She puts her hands down on the bar top and fixes him with a stern look Ryona would be proud of, and he sighs, rolling his eyes.

“Fine, fine.”

He sips at his drink as he thinks it over. What the fuck _is_ he going to do with her? She wouldn’t even take a knife to protect herself in this scumhole, looking at the blade like it was going to up and bite her. Guess he could have her scrub the decks, but in that case he probably shouldn’t tell her that till they’re off the ground, she might decide to take Oppo up on his offer instead.

“I could probably turn you into a bounty hunter. A hundred and one ways to kill a man with a spoon and all that jazz.”

Boba gives him an unimpressed look, turning back to her drink. She seems to be holding up pretty well as far as the alcohol goes. 

“I can’t really imagine being okay with killing anyone at all, much less for money. Besides, don’t you have to be a mercenary to get that kind of information?”

“Yep,” he states, watching her intently.

She whips her head around, eyes wide, “That’s what you all are?” she asks in a scandalized whisper. 

He holds back a laugh, “If you’re good at something, people pay you to do it. And I’m very, very good at what I do,” he purrs, smirking as he leans in close.

She makes an interesting noise, swatting at him till he leans back, taking up his drink again, “You gotta problem with it, there’s the door.”

Boba shakes her head immediately, “No, I was just surprised that’s all. Apparently in my past I had a bad impression.”

He arches an eyebrow at her, “It was probably a pretty accurate impression. You think most merc crews are like this one? You’re damn lucky it was June that picked your ass up.”

She nods, taking another sip of her drink, “So what would you really be having me do?”

“Nothing. Yet,” he keeps stalling.

“But what am I supposed-”

“What you’re supposed to do is not be a nuisance, and sit here like a good little pet while I go get another drink,” he states, as he downs the last of his drink and moves off to track down the bartender. 

He’s gone for thirty fucking seconds, and turns around to find some fucking junker-faced asshole, has his hands on Boba, nearly dangling her from his grip. Reigning in his first impulse to immediately get the guy acquainted with the sharp end of one of his knives, Damon slips up behind Boba, casually snaking his arm around her waist and pulling her close to him. 

“If you wanted someone to join us, Boba, you could’ve just asked,” he teases.

But Boba is beyond teasing, trembling as she presses back against him.

“Damon,” she murmurs, sounding more relieved than anyone has ever sounded, upon having him sneak up behind them. 

“Damon?” the man abruptly releases her, looking appropriately worried. Damon glances down at Boba, glad she doesn’t cling on to him, still standing tall in his hold.

“Your boyfriend is Damon?” he goes on.

Damon smirks, deciding it would be fun to roll with that, “You gotta problem with that?”

The guy steps back, but apparently just can’t help being dumb as fuck. “As in Reznor?”

“I don’t go by that name anymore,” he responds, all traces of cockiness vanishing into a glacial coldness.

All color drains from the non-metal side of the guys face, and he bobs awkwardly almost like he thought he should bow.

“I’m sorry Mr. Rez-sir! I didn’t realize this one was taken.”

“It shouldn’t matter if this one is taken or not. No means no, you piece of shit.”

The junker actually fucking whimpers, before mumbling another apology and scampering back to whatever hole he’d climbed out of. Damon lets out a frustrated breath, absently rubbing Boba’s side with his thumb.

“Dirty, no good, scumbag. Who the fuck does he think he is calling me that?”

“Are you okay?” Boba’s soft voice interrupts his anger.

He glances down, abruptly realizing he still has her pressed close. He frowns at her upturned face; why is she asking him that? He should be asking _her_ that. Or something. He lets her go, half angry that she lets him get away with his bullshit and then has to go around being so fucking _caring_ and more bullshit.

“Don’t ask dumb questions, and don’t hang out with sleazebags,” he tells her, still frowning. “It’s almost like I didn’t tell you not to wander around alone.”

She doesn’t even argue with him and his frown deepens as he sits her back down, sticking her drink in her hand. 

“Drink up, Bambi. We gotta figure out how to toughen you up.”

“I am tough,” she finally responds, her own frown making an appearance.

A bark of laughter escapes him, “You are the Bambiest Bambi I’ve ever met, newbie. But don’t worry, we’ll figure something out.” 

He ruffles her hair, surprised when the look she gives him is truly angry. 

“What, no touching the hair?”

She sighs, shaking her head, all the anger draining out of her all at once, “No, that isn’t it. I’m just frustrated, like I’m-” she laughs although it isn’t exactly a happy sound, “Like I’m forgetting something. Something important that would be helpful.”

“Hm, maybe we should try a few things once we get back on the ship, see what you’re good at.” 

He meant it honestly for once, although Damon can immediately see where her mind went, chuckling as he smooths a lock of Boba’s hair back behind a pink-tipped ear with a crooked finger.

“Well, would you look at that, you’re not as innocent as you look. What sort of naughty places did your mind go to, hmmm?” he says in a low voice leaning closer till his lips are nearly brushing her skin. 

She goes even pinker but only downs what’s left of her drink, carefully placing the empty glass down.

“All I’m thinking about is another delicious drink,” she finally states, resolutely not looking at him. 

Damon sighs, disappointed she’s done playing for now. Perhaps she does need another drink. He orders her another, glad when she brightens up and relaxes as it’s placed in front of her. 

“Thank you,” she tells him happily before making quick work of the cherry on top. 

They drink in relative silence for awhile, until Boba starts asking her damn questions that make him want to stick duct tape over her mouth and shove her in a closet. It doesn’t take long till she’s obviously just as sick of dealing with him, slipping from her bar stool her half finished drink in hand.

“I’m going to find Aya, it sounded like she was planning on having some fun.”

Fuck, is he turning into Cal? Sitting alone and pissed off at the bar is a Cal thing, not a Damon thing. Still, it’s not like he’s gonna beg her to stay.

“Hey, I’ve been trying to show you a good time, princess, it ain’t my fault you haven’t taken me up on it yet,” he leers at her, slouching in a way that make his legs open up, nice and inviting.

Her cheeks go pink again, but she just shakes her head at him, lips pursed, “Maybe I’m looking for a different sort of fun.”

He shrugs, “Suit yourself. I’m sure Aya would help you out if you asked.”

Her mouth actually goes open, “That’s not what I-”

He just laughs, “Relax, Bambi. And don’t leave the bar.”

She just gives him a final flat look before making her way toward the back.

Damon picks up his own drink and follows in the shadows behind her, intent on making sure she makes it there unmolested. She _literally_ glows gold, and he wouldn’t trust anyone here not to cut off someones hand for a knock-off bracelet, much less keep their paws off a Tilaari who looks as naive as a kitten- Ryona, at least can pull off a ‘don’t fuck with me’ aura, if she wants to. 

Boba pauses at the curtain, mouth hanging open as she takes in the stages, the poles, and the gyrating dancers on them. Damon smirks, taking another sip from his drink as he watches her. She doesn’t seem put off by it, he’d even say she was eager as she made her way to the stage where Aya was dancing, while June hovers like a mother hen. He’s about to head back to the bar, content that she has eyes on her that aren’t plotting getting her naked or worse, when Boba hops up onto the stage.

Damon freezes in place, his drink still held at his lips as he watches her approach a shocked Aya, an excited grin on her glowing face. He can’t hear anything over the thumping music and the roar of the crowd, but he takes a large gulp of his drink as Aya and June recover from their own shock, Aya grinning wickedly as she draws Boba away from June’s desperately reaching arms. 

She’s obviously giving Boba a quick run down, showing her how to grip the pole and let gravity do the work for her. 

If it weren’t for Boba being Tilaari the crowd would probably be upset the great show Aya had been putting on was being interrupted by a beginners lesson, but if the noise is to be believed, most of them are excited to see a glowing, gold, Tilaari on stage, even if she isn’t doing much.   
  
Boba seems pretty content just to swing in circles for awhile, though Aya interrupts to show her something new before the crowd gets bored, swaying her hips enticingly and gesturing for Boba to try it. She does and the crowd goes fucking apeshit, and Damon is reluctantly impressed when Aya immediately distracts her from the overwhelming attention, showing her how to put it all together into actual pole dancing.

June seems to have noticed him, although Damon doesn’t acknowledge him when the gunslinger stops beside him, sighing. 

“This is a terrible idea,” he says after a minute.

“Why? She’s having fun.”

“Fun she might regret once her buzz wears off.”

Damon shrugs, “Then she’ll fuckin’ learn better. Maybe.”

June sighs again. 

Boba pulls off a particularly _limber_ move and the gunslinger goes tense, Damon flicking his gaze to June’s face to find exactly what he suspected, a flush. 

“She’s… good at this,” June says reluctantly, like he doesn’t want to believe it.

Damon rolls his eyes, polishing off the last of his drink and sliding it onto someone’s table, ignoring their protests.

“So? Doesn’t mean anything. Doesn’t mean anything even if she used to be a fuckin’ stripper; which seems about as likely as her being an _actual_ fuckin’ princess.”

June shifts uncomfortably, crossing his arms over his chest, “I know, it’s just-” his eyes follow Boba’s movements closely, even as his flush grows. “I just want her to be okay.”

“Well, if she decides she can’t handle merc life, it looks she has a back up option, so she’ll be fine,” Damon responds, smirking as Aya shows Boba a daring move that she emulates perfectly and June makes a strangled noise in his throat.  
  
Movement catches his eye and Damon is _thrilled_ to see Cal, lurking on the other side of the entry way, and looking like he’s moments from setting the entire club on fire with the force of his glare alone. 

Yep, everyone’s got it bad and he can’t decide if it’s funny or sad. It doesn’t help that Boba _is_ more than just a pretty face; she’s one of those people everyone likes to hang around because she actually gives a shit, listening like everyone has something worthy of being heard. Which is about as far from true as you can get, as far as Damon’s concerned, but he sure as hell gets the appeal. 

On the stage, Boba takes Aya’s hand, abruptly pulling her into a dance hold. Aya’s mouth pops open as Boba’s arms hold her close, hips swinging, feet stomping and tapping. One hand still holding Aya’s, Boba twirls away, her free hand moving in an elaborate spiral. 

She freezes in place for a moment, back arched, arm extended, fingers splayed. 

The crowd is sounding absolutely rabid, but that’s only a footnote in Damon’s perception at the moment, eyes glued to golden skin, shining brighter than he’s ever seen it before, and he knows it isn’t because of the lights of the club. 

Then in a blur of movement, Boba twirls back into the dance hold, lips parting in a laugh the assassin can’t hear, as Aya catches her, the expression on the pilot's face still one of wonder. Boba might not remember anything, but apparently her body has. Aya overcomes her shock, and the two of them continue to dance, to play off each other, neither of their styles completely matching up, but only making it more interesting as a result. They copy moves, try to one up each other, sway in tandem which nearly starts a fucking riot.

At the end of it, Boba’s cheeks are flushed with exertion, a sheen of sweat on her skin. She gives Aya a kiss on the cheek and the pilot freezes in place, cheeks pinking. 

Still grinning, Boba heads to the edge of the stage, but instead of making room for her to climb down, several pair of arms reach for her. There’s a sudden influx of movement as Boba steps back, her smiling vanishing, and Aya barges forward, yelling at the top of her lungs. At her loud, colorful threats, the crowd parts, also encouraged by a scowling Damon, who had slipped through the crowd at the first hint of trouble and was now reaching up a hand for her.  
  
Her relief is immediate and Damon can’t help but be irritated by how easily she trusts him, taking his hand in hers as she steps down from the stage, wobbling slightly as she lands. When Damon glances around, he sees Cal at the edge of the crowd, eyes roving over the mass of people in search of more trouble. He passes by June midway who follows behind them until Boba is safely outside the press of people. She realizes she’s still holding tightly to his hand and drops it, sucking in another relieved breath. 

“Can’t take you anywhere, newbie,” Damon jokes, even though he _is_ worried. 

How the hell are they going to get any work done with her practically starting riots wherever she goes? Even if she can’t help it, it’s gonna be a fuckin’ issue. Maybe they _should_ leave her here to be a stripper- wouldn’t it be better for everyone? Not that it matters, this fuckin’ dumbass crew doesn’t let up once they adopt someone, Boba ain’t going nowhere unless she wants to. 

“I doubt it's useful, but I guess you did find something you're good at, Bambi,” Damon remarks, as he shoves her in a booth, away from prying eyes.

He stands at the end of the table, shielding her further from any especially stupid and nosy patrons. 

June returns from the bar with a bottle of water and Boba lights up, thanking him profusely. The gunslinger moves in the self-conscious, awkward, way he does when he’s flustered, and Damon’s lips twist in an amused smile. Though when June starts peppering her with worried questions, he gets sick of it quick enough, grabbing Boba’s arm and dragging her away. He’s amused when she looks relieved to be rescued from that as well.

He walks her to the other side of the club where the other sort of questionable tastes are indulged, shoving her at Bash and Ryona, and declaring it’s their turn to babysit before leaving with instructions to stay out of trouble. 

Damon’s just thinking they might have made it through the night without any more issues when June comes rushing up to him where he’d been haranguing Cal, declaring Boba’s disappeared. Cal swears, snapping at June to search the club before getting on the comm to inform the others and ordering Aya and Ryona to the ship in case she made her way back there. Bash joins them at the front entrance, him and Cal going one direction while Damon goes another. 


End file.
